A glint of gold catches your eye, and your gaze falls on a well-worn deck of Starfall Cards. Decks of fortune-telling cards like these are believed by some to be imbued with a rare type of magic, while others believe them to be the tools of trickster magicians. This particular deck has seen a lot of use, the golden edges going soft with wear. You reach for the cards, but hesitate with a glance around the room. Will your companions see this as a silly superstition? Would they take to heart whatever card you turn over? Do you even take this seriously?
In your hand is the Spire card. It implies knowledge, discovery, and discernment. The glass tower, enveloped in mystic energy, is the embodiment of the thaumaturgic pursuits. The longer you look at it though, you can’t help but to note the stark and barren rock the tower is built upon, the crowding darkness closing in on the tower, and the utter lack of any sign of life within the tower. All sense of enlightenment and motivation have bled from the card in your hand. Instead, it’s a reminder of the cold cruelty of the deeds done here in the Dread Dragon Inn this night. You drop the card back atop the deck. Your hands feel dirtied, as if they could use a good prestidigitation spell, or at least a good washing.
